Apologies
by gostlcards
Summary: Emma and Neal have a chat in the middle of the night as they watch over their newborn second son / Swanfire, future fic, drabblish fluff


Drabble. I'm actually not a HUGE Swanfire fan, but this came to me after a gifset on tumblr (*again shakes fists*) and I couldn't help it (i kinda rather her with Hook, since Graham's not in the picture :( womp wompppppp

* * *

He doesn't know how long he's been standing there in the doorway, but it's long enough for the water in his class to warm to room temperature, reducing the ice cubes to tiny specks that are barely detectable.

"It's kind of amazing, isn't it?"

He jumps at her voice, soft and amused. She pads up behind him, arm snaking around his waist as she presses her face to his shoulder and breathes in; he can practically see her closing her eyes, feel the corners of her lips tweak upward. He brings his free hand to where she touches on his chest, right above his heart. His heart.

With a quiet sigh, he shifts to make room for her and she arches her brows a bit in a teasing fashion. "He's only a few days old. I don't think he's going anywhere without being able to lift his head."

"He's _us_, Em."

His voice is so full of wonder and awe that she tries to keep the grief from her expression, because they already have had an "us" once, but they both missed out on the midnight watch of him. Fleetingly, she wonders now if this is what it was like for Snow and David when they had their next child (her _brother_, she reminds herself), and suddenly almost understands their pain as well as her own. She blinks and forces herself back to this moment.

But not quite good enough. The look on her face must have shown her thought process, because his brow furrows in distress; he looks down at his glass and takes a sip, almost ashamed. "Did...Did Henry look like that?"

She chuckles, quietly walking to the crib. "Nah. Henry had brown hair, right away. I didn't get...I wasn't with him long, but his face was all frowny and scrunched up, like he was a grumpy old man." She looked up at her husband. "So he looked like you."

"Oh, jokes now, hm?" He walks over to join her, setting the water down on the chair at the side so he can rest his hands on her hips. "So I guess this one's going to look like you, hm?"

Emma smiles once more, looking down at the new babe, wisps of blonde plastered to his head. She sighs. "I kinda hope he ends up looking like my Dad a little bit. Is that bad?"

Neal shakes his head. "I, for one, think your father is rather dashing."

She rolls her eyes and leans forward to catch his grinning lips in a quick lock before relaxing into him softly, leaning into his shoulder. It's been a rough few days; the labor was long, longer than with Henry, and her parents had been absolute saviors for her, as had even Belle and Gold, and everyone really, which she was so thankful for. But even the frozen lasagna's and casserole's came with hosting, and she was still so tired, physically and emotionally, and every time she wanted to curl up with Neal, something came up-parents, children, friends.

"I'm sorry," She hears him whisper into her shoulder, and she closes her eyes once more. _So tired..._

"Don't. Don't say that." She shakes her head, pushing herself standing straight.

"But I am, Em. We could've had this..."

"No. I mean it, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of everyone apologizing, I'm tired of feeling like I should apologize. It happened, we're done. I don't want him growing up in the shadow of 'i'm sorry's'."

"But I **am**. I just wanted to make sure...now that I know what this feels like..."

"I know you are. I know they are. I know Regina is, and your dad, and everyone is, and that's great, but this is what we have now. Stop thinking about what happened, and let's be thankful for what we get to build from now."

When he smiles, she thinks, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle is really, really cute. "You're an amazing woman."

"You are correct." She grins back at him, gaze shifting to the newborn in the crib before back to him. "And I think we have a bit of time before his next feeding so how about you stop talking so we can at least get something that resembles sleep tonight?"

"I'll get him next time he wakes up," He offers, and he means it, as she leads him out of the room. She wraps her hand around his with a squeeze.

"My White Knight."

"And my Princess."

The title has become a sort of jest for her in the past few years, so his comment earns him a slug on the arm, and he emits a soundless laugh as she stares at him with wide, warning eyes then takes off. He chases after her into their room.

It's too soon for anything too much, but they end up in each others arms all the same, a respite from their new obligation, finally right where they've always been meant to be.

Together.


End file.
